A Changeling Tale
by Kingkdream
Summary: Based off the tabletop rpg "Changeling; The Lost". The story follows the adventures of Kaspar, a young changeling; a former human irreversibly changed into a faerie creature, whom discovers and now navigates through a strange hidden community established by his kind. A place where everyone's a survivor, and everyone has an agenda. An experiment in Urban Fantasy and Slice of Life.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

There is a spot in the city that's perfect for a busker with some skill to hustle some easy money. Unlike the various spots in High Street that depend on the momentary charity of passers-by, this spot was located on a "cross roads", between two walk paths connecting a pub, a cafe, a diner and a French restaurant, the common denominator between them is that nothing on their menu cost less than twenty dollars, and so regardless of their patron's preferences, the people that made their way to the Cross Roads were likely doing well for themselves, and when pandered to correctly, were very generous to their entertainers, human or otherwise.

It was a good night for music, Kaspar thought as he straightened out his fringe and tied up his hair. It was a warm night; the stars were out, the wine was flowing, and the city was lively. He unclasped his guitar and set up his amplifier. There were lots of people out and about and each of these places were packed with patrons. He should let loose and harvest a veritable bouquet of emotions tonight.

His empathetic senses tingled. Somewhere on the balconies there were drops of excitement falling into a previously undisturbed pond of relative content. The drops rippled, and those sensitive to the shifting mood glanced around for the source of sudden change in atmosphere. How could he not feel proud? Without any announcement, he'd been recognized, without playing a single note, he had caused a small stir. Perhaps he was making a big deal over nothing, but for street musician; he feel like that it was a subtle achievement to be proud of, and so as he finished set up his mic and plugged in his guitar, he grinned shamelessly. Tonight was going to be a very good night.

He plucked the first few bars of Prelude in C major (by Johann Sebastian Bach) and announced himself to the patrons of the various establishments before him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, My name is Kaspar Lafayette and tonight; I have the privilege and pleasure to perform before you. Any coin you can give is greatly appreciated, but don't feel pressured, praise and applause is just as precious." He spoke as he played the complicated piece of classical music simultaneously, his voice projected by the microphone and amplifier he didn't actually need.

His right hand plucked the strings with precision timing as his left danced on the fret board, it didn't take long for him to achieve flow; his musician's heart beat became the steady rhythm for his hands weave the magic of melodies and harmonies in perfect unison and flawless economy of motion. And gently, ever so slightly, he let his magic seep into the music.

Prelude in C major was a serene introduction, it lulled audience into gentle docility, and he sipped on their comfort. Next he played Kotaro Oshio's mysterious "Twilight" and supped on their curiosity and excitement, their wonder and awe. This was then followed by Isaac Albeniz's "Asturias", a thunderous piece that ignited fear and tension. He took them upon a roller coaster of emotions, each time breathing in the very feelings he evoked within them. He feasted on their joy and sorrow, their romance and horror, he dined upon their very souls.

At the end of each piece, he let them rest, a moment to catch their breath before he'd inevitably steal it again. The more fortitudinous approached him eagerly, dropping coins and notes (even phone numbers) into his open guitar case, and though he'd heard their questions a several times before; "Who are you?", "Where did you come from?" they were highlighted by the same flushed excitement, a thing he never tired of feeding. It helped that he had an androgynous form; a thin frame and an innocent smile. He even applied make up to make his cheekbones look even more pronounced, and his eyes popped. He flirted with the ladies, flattered the men, and then he sent them both away to join the rest of the audience torn between wanting more, and wanting to see the next performance.

By the end of an hour, he had drained his audience (now grown considerably) dry of emotion, and lined his guitar case with an envious amount of cash and coin. Despite their exhaustion, they applauded vigorously and cheered when he announced the end of his performance. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" he declared, basking in their cheer, waving vigorously to his new fans. "My name is Kaspar Lafayette, and you've been a wonderful audience, the best any musician could ever hope for. If you'd like to book a house concert, I can be reached via my agent. If you just want to say "hi" you can find me on my social media page, or playing at a random spot in the city. Thank you, thank you again! Thank you for having me, and have a lovely evening!" he bowed to thunderous applause.

As he packed up his gear, he felt the sloshing of emotional energy swirling within him, begging to be used. He smiled, this much Glamour would keep his Mask charged for a month, easily, keep him assuming a human shape and wander around the city with none the wiser. Alternatively, he could burn through it now and have a really dope three days, with everyone rushing to please him, and allowing him to do as he pleased. Oh decisions, decisions… Emotional Manipulation was such a fun and convenient power to have.

This was how Kaspar's kind; Changelings, earned their Glamour, the emotional fuel for their Magic. While vampires supped on blood, Changelings feasted upon emotion. As a musician, this was the most obvious and enjoyable way for him to do so. There're many unfortunate Changelings that did not have the particular talents that he had, their bodies twisted and _metamorphosed_ by their former Faerie captors for different purposes, rather than for the _entertainment_ that Kaspar was. As it was, he made the most of it. Reality was difficult enough for a Changeling, and he was not about to spurn the advantage of his abilities simply because they came from a horrific place.

Just as he finished packing his gear, Kaspar gazed up and was startled by the hulking figure that had appeared. The man was six feet two, easily, though he held himself in a way that made him seem taller. He wore a white shirt, tailored to fit, golden cufflinks, and a knowing smile upon his face.

"That was an _enchanting_ performance, young man."

Kaspar grimaced inwardly. There were certain key words that revealed one Changeling to another, and though they all shared the experience of fleeing from Faerie together, it unfortunately didn't necessarily mean that they were all friends that had each other's best interests in mind.

"Yes, sir." He said politely, "I put my _heart and soul_ into it." It was coded confirmation that he had indeed enchanted his music slightly to elicit the overwhelming emotional response that it did. "I hope you enjoyed it." _I hope you don't punch me in the face._

"I certainly did, it was a marvelous performance." He nodded, which eased the tension Kaspar had been feeling, "I'm sure the Baroness would be delighted to hear it as well."

He grimaced inwardly, again. This man, whomever he was, was likely a Knight of Lady Cresselia, the Baroness of the local Freehold, whom most changelings in the area had sworn fealty and given tribute to in exchange for her support and protection. It was not as though Kaspar had any particular grievance with her, t'was simply that he didn't need her support or protection, and swearing fealty and giving tribute went against his free spirit mentality.

Having said that, he'd rather not be punched in the face by a Knight.

"I would be honored to play before the Baroness," he hoped he choked with convincing shock and humility. "Do I… go see her now?" He could always just run away when the Knight was no longer watching.

The Knight shook his head and smiled kindly, "No, Child. You will be summoned accordingly at an appropriate time via an invitation."

"And… how would I receive this invitation?" Surely the Baroness even with all her resources, couldn't possibly keep tabs of every Changeling that wanders in and out of her domain? Surely.

The Knight smiled, somewhat amused, "You've made quite an impression today, you announced yourself and your contact details quite loudly. It would not be difficult to find you."

"I see." _Shit._ "I look forward to receiving the invitation." _Fuck._

The Knight nodded and walked away.

There were several ways for Changelings like Kaspar to earn their mana, the fuel for their magic. It was unfortunate that he drew the attention of a powerful Changeling and his no doubt even more powerful mistress. Despite the big haul of emotional energy he'd collected, tonight was not a very good night, and probably the start of something much worse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"I feel like you expect me to be shocked, or feel sorry for you," said the Elven chef. Antoine wasn't actually an Elf, his former master had been an Elf, and when Antoine had been spirited away, he'd been remade in his master's image. Sort of like how Kaspar was, but to a lesser extent. Calling him an Elf was just easier to distinguish the kind of Changeling he was. "But I **don't** feel sorry for you," he continued, "and you kind of deserve this." He finished with a sly smile.

He should've been remade into a piece of crap, because that's the kind of friend he was being.

"What?!" exclaimed Kaspar, failing to keep a straight face as he pretended to be outraged, "You don't feel sorry for me at all?!"

"Nope." Replied Antoine, brutally, with no hesitation, hiding his smile as he sipped his wine. "I did tell you to stay away from the Bohemian Grove, I told you it was a bad idea. I wasn't even ominous or vague about it either, I told you up front that Cresselia's court often frequents there, that it wasn't a rumor; that I had once worked at La Frontière and personally witnessed her courtiers socialize there. I'd warned you when you were first excited about the idea, I'd warned the next three times when you bragged about how much money and mana you made there." He recounted calmly, setting up the grand "I told you so", he even paused for dramatic effect, "I really don't know why you expected me to be shocked or surprised you got caught."

The truth was Kaspar wasn't shocked or surprised that Antoine wasn't shocked or surprised. He hadn't even been shocked or surprised when that Knight had approached him. After all, Antoine did indeed warn him several times. "I thought I'd get lucky." He defended himself sheepishly, looking away so he wouldn't see Antoine's expression, which were in itself a form of chastisement. He caught a reflection of it in his (now half empty) wine glass though. He saw his friend's eyes go wide with disbelief, at the audacity of his weak excuse. He saw his friend's eyes squint, wondering if he was serious, perhaps he was joking, perhaps he was just dumb, wondering if he knew how statistics worked, that the more frequently he rolled the dice, the more likely he was going to get burned the way he did, wondering if he should explain that simple mathematical concept to him. Finally, he saw his friend take a deep breath and exhale.

"Look, what's done is done. What's important is that you're safe, what we should consider is what you should do next." He sighed.

Good ol' Antoine, never held a grudge for long, never spent hours berating him for his numerous questionable decisions. He really was a good friend.

"I think I have to leave town, right?" Kaspar nodded seriously, relieved that the conversation had moved onto more productive route.

Antoine squinted his eyes again, again wondering if Kaspar was joking or not. "You don't think you're over reacting?"

"Dude, I don't want to be Cresselia's slave!" Kaspar complained, slumping in his seat.

"It's not slavery." Antoine said empathetically, patiently, "It's Fealty."

"That sounds like Slavery."

"Hardly. It's just swearing an Oath that you won't attack her or anyone under her protection, that's all it is."

"I … wasn't going to attack anyone anyway."

"Obviously, but this ensures that while you're under her protection, no one can attack you either."

"Wait, really?" asked Kaspar, genuinely shocked and surprised, "If I swear this Oath, no one can attack me? Not even her knight?"

Antoine nodded, "Yeah, actually, even if you didn't swear the Oath, her Knights wouldn't have attacked you. If word got around that Cresselia's Knights were attacking random changelings for petty reasons, it would have made her look bad. Either she was unable to control her knights or she had elevated a mad dog to a nobility, either way it'd have been embarrassing, which is worse than any insult."

Kaspar flinched, the sentence triggered a flash a forgotten memory of his time in Faerie, when he was still in _tutelage_ to his fairy god mother.

"That… doesn't sound so bad." Kaspar said cautiously, "what happens if you break the Oath and attack someone?"

"Nothing pleasant," said Antoine, "Fealties, Oaths, Pledges, these things are magically binding, the moment you say the words before Cresselia and witnesses of her Court, something happens to you, you receive her Blessing and you get a little stronger, a little more powerful, but break the Oath, and all your strength is stripped away and you're marked a traitor to the Freehold."

"Wait, I get stronger!?" exclaimed Kaspar excitedly with glee.

" _ **But break the Oath**_ _,"_ Antoine repeated with emphasis, _"and all your strength is stripped away and you're marked a traitor to the Freehold._ Oh sweet Titania, I feel like I've been here before."

"Yeah, no, I got it; breaking an Oath is bad." Said Kaspar hurriedly to assure his friend that he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. "Keep going."

Antoine rubbed his eyes, tired, exasperated, concerned about Kaspar's attention span. The last time he'd this excited about an idea obviously didn't end so well for him. "That's about it. Swear the Oath, get a Blessing, and get protection within the Freehold, but you can't attack anyone within the Freehold either, else you're going to suffer serious consequences most likely resulting in your death."

"And what about the Tithe?" asked Kaspar, cautious again. If there was anything that seemed like it had inconvenient hidden strings attached, this would be it.

"Oh, don't even worry about it." Antoine waved away casually, "That only happens once a year, on New Year's Eve, and if you're poor, you can just give her anything. Last year, I think there were some Orcs that gave her an assault rifle or something."

"What?"

"Yeah," Antoine nodded to confirm what he just said, "Assault rifles, I don't think they even came with bullets. I thought it was strange, but I looked around and no one was really surprised. As the night went on, I realized Changelings gave all sorts of things as Tribute; clothing, paintings, trophies, weapons, wine, et cetera, it was really random, all of it varying in quality; some of it really expensive, really beautiful, high end stuff, some of it was home made, and kind of ugly, some of it I suspect was illegal. Oh, someone even bottled their own blood to give to her as Tribute. Yeah, I'm not even joking, I saw it with my own two eyes. So you can rest assured, whatever you chose to give her, it needn't break your back or wallet to obtain."

Kaspar squinted in suspicion, "Why? What's the point then?"

Antoine sipped his wine some more, "I asked some of the elder changelings, and according to them, the gift was actually irrelevant. Cresselia's rich, if she wanted something, she could just buy it. No, it was the act of giving a _precious_ token in _gratitude_ that counted. She uses the tokens as consent and a focus to renew our Oaths to her and each other for another year and a day."

Kaspar sipped his wine in deep thought. "What did you give her?"

"I baked a cake."

Kaspar squinted, unsure if his friend was joking or not.

Antoine nodded and grinned, "Yeah, I was terrified. An elder changeling promised that it would be fine, that as long as I put my feeling into it, she'd love it. I made the best cake I could, even enchanted the utensils and ingredients to do so, sort of like what you do with music. Presented it to her at the New Year's Banquet, she tried it, loved it, and even had her courtiers try it as well. Joked that she'd have had the whole thing if she could, but saved a slice as a Token for the ritual."

"Wow…" Kaspar couldn't help but chuckle. "She sounds alright, this doesn't seem so bad…"

"It's really not…" Antoine chuckled as well, "I really don't know why you were so adamant against this before."

"Well, I didn't know the finer details of it all," Kaspar defended himself, rather weakly, "why didn't you tell me that it wasn't so bad?" he countered.

"I… one hundred percent did tell you that it wasn't a big deal…" said Antoine with forced calm, trying not to laugh, "You just didn't want to hear it. In fact, you actually said "La La La, I don't want to hear it.""

Kaspar sniffed, "Yeah, I'll be honest; that sounds like Me.", then burst out with laughter at his youthful naiveté. Oh, the maturity and growth he'd experienced in six whole months.

It was then that a woman walked up the steps and onto the balcony where the two friends were socializing. "Hey boys, what're you talking about?" she said.

Anise was Antoine's finance, the two met when Anise insisted on personally complimenting the chef that prepared her meal at La Frontière, then decided to steal him away for her own restaurant, then unintentionally falling in love as she watched him work and boldly pursued that relationship. It was a very sweet story which Kaspar liked to tease Antoine for being a literal trophy husband.

Kaspar glanced away momentarily as she pecked Antoine on the lips, before grinning and greeting her. "Nothing much, I just dropped by, came seeking advice, reassurance, moral support. I think I got it."

Anise gazed at Kaspar with an expression of mild concern and amusement, "You're not in trouble again, are you Kaspar?"

"I-"

"Rest assured, my Love." Antoine interjected quickly, placing his hand atop hers reassuringly, "I'm confident I banished the more rebellious and mischievous thoughts from his mind."

Anise kissed him again, "Oh Love, what would he do without you?"

"Hey!" Kaspar exclaimed, "I don't appreciate the two of you ganging up on me like this. I also don't appreciate the implication that I'm some sort of wayward child that's always up to mischief." And then with more conviction in his voice than anything he'd said that evening, he finished with, "I'm an adult."

"Of course, dear." Anise said placating him.

"I'm a very mature person." Kaspar insisted again.

"Mhmm," murmured Antoine, "that much is evident."

"So what is it that he's planning to do, or not do?" Anise asked.

"He was finally caught by one of Cresselia's knights, recognized as a changeling and one not sworn to Her Court." Antoine summarized. "He's due to receive an invitation for an audience, and he's committed to seeing it through and not do anything foolish." He finished sternly.

"Oh, you're going to love her Palace!" Anise beamed, "It's huge, decadent, luxurious, and glamorous. We're thinking of having our wedding ceremony there." She eyed Antoine expectedly, whom shrugged awkwardly in response.

"Hang on… Anise… you've been to Cresselia's palace?" Kaspar asked hesitantly.

"Of course?"

"But… you're human…"

"….and?"

"Why…." Kaspar trailed off for a moment, before voicing his sudden numerous questions, "why would you go there? How would you be allowed to enter? How do they keep the changeling community hidden if they let regular people in there?"

"Ah, apparently I needed Cresselia's blessing before Antoine and I were allowed to pursue a serious relationship. I needed to swear a Pledge before her Court that I wouldn't harm or betray the Changeling community before I was allowed to be part of it." She explained casually.

"Whaaat… "Kaspar trailed off again disbelievingly, taking time to process the information he just heard, "You've sworn an Oath to Cresselia." The sentence sounded silly to say out loud, and surely he'd be contradicted.

"A Pledge," Antoine corrected. "Not as powerful, but the consequences are still severe. She gets a little magic, but breaking a pledge means those gifts will be stripped away, and her health would fail. She'd recover in time hopefully, but would require serious care."

Anise nodded in confirmation, "I've actually sworn several Pledges; two to Antoine and one to Cresselia."

Antoine nodded, "Of course if I broke the pledge, if I was unable or refused to uphold my end of the contract, I would be the one to suffer the consequences, it would be my health in jeopardy."

Anise squeezed his hand, "I would never let that happen, my Love…" and kissed him in sincerity.

"Whaaat…" Kaspar trailed off again, once more, processing the sudden revelations about his two good friends and the secret society they belonged in, the secret society it seemed he was about to join.

"So, what are you going to do?" Anise asked patiently.

"I think I have to… wait for the invitation, right? I think I have to see this through, see where this goes." Kaspar concluded.

"Just relax." Antoine said soothingly, "I really think you're stressing over nothing. Most of the Changelings in the city have sworn fealty to Cresselia. It's kept the peace and brought prosperity to everyone. Everything's going to be fine, you just need to relax."

"Yeah… I think you're right." Said Kaspar happily and convinced. "I'm sure it'll be okay. I just need to relax. How bad could it be? "


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"And that's it for our session today, John."

"Thank you, doctor. I always feel better after our sessions."

"Please, that's literally my job description, it's what I'm supposed to do." chuckled Doctor Marron. "Remember to work on those thought exercises whenever you feel stressed, okay? And I'll see you next week, oh, here, let me show you out."

The psychologist's office was… ordinary. Carpet floors, a sturdy desk, a comfortable couch. It was stereotypical in its mundane decoration. No one suspected that Doctor Steven Marron was a changeling, and that was the point; to be indistinguishable from ordinary people while he used his profession as a cover to sup on the stress and anxiety of his patients. It was a cunning idea, symbiotic and simple; the broken and beaten would come to him, he would siphon off their pain and frustrations, empowering himself, relieving his patients, whom would then go off and spread their recommendation of his services to others, expanding his clientele. It was low risk and perpetually rewarding, a constant stream of income and energy. That was the kind of person Steven was; economical, efficient, effective. It was what made him one of the more powerful and dignified Changelings in Cresselia's court; Lord Lannister.

Just as he sat back down at his desk to review his next patient's case, his phone rang, "Doctor Marron, sir? There's someone here that doesn't have an appointment but is insisting that she meet with you. She says her name is… Super Glitter Bomb Baby? She says it's not really important, but she's… bored. And if you don't meet with her she'll cause a scene…. Sir, should I call security?"

He sighed, "No Marie, let her in. She's a… friend that's pulling a prank."

A couple minutes later and the door to his office burst open. "Lanny! Baby! What's happening? Oh god, this office is boring as _faaark_ , you really should spice it up a bit, what's the point in having money if you don't flaunt it."

Lady Jewel was another of the more powerful Changelings in Cresselia's Court, though a sharp contrast to himself. He didn't hate her though, he understood, there were those that escaped Faerie and just wanted to return to their normal lives, and there're others that relish and savour life and freedom in a way they've never done so before. Jewel dealt with her trauma by appreciating the pleasures of the material plane to the extreme. Not exactly healthy, but she wasn't one of his patients, and so not his problem.

"I like it this way," he said defending on his choice of decoration, "and isn't that what Life is about? Doing what we like?"

Jewel groaned, "Yes, but you like the wrong things!" She beamed, he chuckled.

"What can I do for you?" he said, interrupting the small talk and moving the conversation along, "As whimsical as you are, I doubt you've come here for a social visit, girls like you don't play in places like this."

"True, true, I wanted to know if you heard the rumour, and if so, I wanted your take on it."

"What rumour?"

Her eyes widened, her grin flashed mischievously, "Apparently! One of Cresselia's knights found a stray."

"Another one?"

"Another one!"

He closed his eyes and contemplated the implications. There've been several Changelings springing out of the Hedge lately, broken, beaten, half-starved and half mad. They come to this world, the material plane, without a Mask in all their _faerie glory_ , terrifying to locals and causing mayhem in their wake. Some of them can be saved, tamed, and taught to live within the Masquerade. Others had to be put down before they hurt anyone.

"I suppose I'll be called in to train this new fledgling?" He exhaled. Breaking in a new changeling was never a pleasant task.

"No." Jewel chimed, smiling smugly, the airs of someone that knows something that no one else did. Anyone else and they might've been baited into being impatient, but not Lannister. Jewel wasn't nearly as stupid and shallow as she pretended to be, and beyond her taunting smile, her eyes were sharp, inquisitive, she was watching him for his reactions, body movement, micro expressions that betrayed his intentions. She was about to reveal something and she wanted him off balance and honest. "This one is different. The Knight didn't find him fresh from the hedge, but in the Bohemian Grove of all places, just flaunting his magic. A wanderer apparently. No one knows for sure where he came from, where he was going to go were he not caught, but he's due to swear fealty to Cresselia any day now…"

If he wasn't already preparing to be still, he may have been shocked or surprised, not over the sudden revelation (he'd already heard the same rumours), but that this was why Jewel came to his office, that this was the topic she wanted to discuss. As it were, he pretended to contemplate what was supposed to be a shocking turn of events. The boy wasn't particularly significant, at least that's what he'd judged from his initial assessment, could he have been wrong? Unlikely, but why else would Jewel of all changelings take an interest?

The silence must've lingered too long because Jewel became impatient, "well? What do you think?"

His response was weighed and measured, "He could be anything; he could be an agent of his Keeper, he could be a wanderer that just stumbled into our demesne unknowingly. But the whole point of the Oath to Cresselia is that it handicaps those with ill intentions, and cripples those that act on it. I don't think it matters where he came from."

"He?" said Jewel with an ominous smile, "I never told you that the stray was a man…"

There was a moment of shock. Did he really just fall for the oldest trick in the book? His mind raced at all the possibilities and potential damage control he would have to do before he froze, and calmly said, "You used his pronoun when you informed me of where the Knight found him. I continued using the same pronoun, was it really that big a deal?"

It was. He knew it, she knew it, if he revealed prior knowledge of this rumour, then he revealed his sources, his spies, and that he obviously had designs on the stray, that was just the kind of person he was, he knew it. She knew it.

Jewel cocked her head to the side, sizing up his reaction, his choice of words, "ohh… perhaps you're right. Silly me, making a mountain of a molehill…"

There was a moment of tense silence. Both parties weighing and judging what the other knew, how much they knew, all the while preparing the next back and forth of dialogue to glean more information and guard their own knowledge. This was the unspoken Game of courtly intrigue played at Cresselia's Court, with rules so vague that they're all but invisible to all but the most skilled Players.

"Enough of the past then, as you say, the Oath makes it almost irrelevant. What of the future? Do you have any plans for our wandering child?" Jewel spoke, her eyes hungry, were they for information that he possessed, or were they reflecting upon her own designs for the boy?

"That would largely depend on what kind of changeling he was then, wouldn't it?" feinting that he didn't already know.

"He's one of us, an Elf. Not untalented either from what I gathered, surprisingly self-sufficient, if a little raw, if a little aimless. He could use a strong, guiding hand in his life, for his own benefit if nothing else…"

Was that an invitation to claim him for his own… or bait? At the very least it was an offensive move, meant to trigger a reaction. There really was only one appropriate response.

"We'll see. He may not be worth the time and effort." A non-committal answer, a vague reply.

"Best decide quickly less I add him to my collection." She grinned. On the surface, it seemed like she was being aggressive, forcing him to either stake or withdraw a claim, but he knew better. There weren't any rules saying that an asset couldn't be turned at a later day, so even if he let this chance slip by, he could make a move to claim this piece in the future, or perhaps just neutralize him if he becomes too interfering.

"If you want him, take him." Truth be told, he was getting tired. This conversation had him at a disadvantage to begin with; it was Jewel whom barged in, seizing the initiative in declaring the topic, and then setting the pace of the conversation. It was… _not optimal_ playing defence like this. Better to just forfeit this round and plot his moves meticulously at his own pace, rather than react and improvise on the spot, there was no point playing in a style Jewel excelled at.

"I might. If I do, I'll put him through a few trials, just to see if he's worthy of being added to my deck. I'd feel _terribly guilty_ however if by doing so, he's no longer….ah _functional,_ I would simply _hate_ to disrupt any designs you might've had. Best to let me know now so we can avoid such unfortunate circumstances."

 _Clever._ There wouldn't be a point to him poaching her piece if she crippled him in her _trial._ If he wanted the stray he would have to speak up now, but doing so would tip her to some of the projects he had in play. "It's sweet of you to show me such _consideration,_ but I would hate for you to halt your plans due to my indecisiveness. And truth be told I'm too busy these days to train a fledgling to level of competence I'm satisfied with, if he fails your trail you'd have saved me a lot of time."

Jewel smiled sceptically for a moment, and when he wouldn't elaborate she rolled her eyes and pressed the issue. "And **you'd** be okay with that?"

"You do remember that we're on the same side, right? All we do, we do in service of Baroness Celestia and the freehold." He said politely, deflecting the accusation with the shield of patriotism.

"That **is not** what I wanted to hear, Lannister!" She retorted, "Dull. Too dull! Here's what I'm going to do; I'm going to toy with this stray, I'm going to pump him full of glamour, and then I'm going to let him loose in the Freehold."

"Why would you do that?"

"Curiosity." She grinned, "I want to see where our fellow compatriots run to, _whom_ they run to. I want to see what they cling to so protectively when they think they're about to lose everything. I think that's a far more exciting game to play."

"Why?" He was beginning to feel the same dread he felt when some of his patients confessed to destructive fantasies. There was something building in Jewel's voice, something manic and potentially self-destructive.

"Because Life should be **lived** , Lannister. We did not escape Faerie to live this meek, docile, complacent lifestyle. And I tire of this freehold of ours, the Masquerade is oppressive and stifling thing. It's about time something happened to liven things up a bit."

"Jewel… Let's not do this. Let's have a seat, and we can talk about it."

"No, I'm done talking. I've a party to plan." She swivelled and made her way out of the office. "Thanks for your time, Lannister. We should do this again some time."

The minute Jewel left the office, Lannister made a phone call. Jewel had always had an erratic and unpredictable sense of humour, but this was excessive. How long had she had this intention? Was this stray the last piece she needed, or could any hapless changeling be a suitable substitute? If it was the former, he needed to act now. "Assemble the Group. There's a new fledgling in town, a stray, make the approach, I want to know how malleable he is."

...

Lannister was not nearly as clever as he thought himself to be. He was just the smartest of his kind, those whom backstabbed and traded in favours to rise above the bodies they put down.

Bonnie Jewel entered the car waiting for her outside the _psychologist's_ office. "Where to, ma'am?"

"The office. Now silence, I need to make a call."

Players like Lannister were predictable. They needed peace and quiet for their plots and schemes, they worked in shadows and made secret deals to get ahead in Celestia's Court. Leave them alone, and their influence would grow like mold, like mushrooms. If the Freehold was a pond, then Lannister's kind were the algae that'd form due to stagnation, they were the dust that appeared when things were too still for too long. There was no chance he didn't know about the stray, and whether he admitted it or not no longer mattered. She would use him to shake things up, have the whole lot of them scrambling to maintain the status quo rather than prioritizing whatever plans they had.

"Are you still watching him? Good. Keep observing, and when you get the opportunity, make contact. See to it that he's shown a good time."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Wow, I don't know what the fuck is going on…"

In hindsight, he should've asked Antoine for advice, he really should've, but after his last slip up he felt asking for help made him seem "helpless"...not an adjective he wanted to be associated with. An invitation arrived at the hostel he was staying at, "To Kaspar; you are cordially invited to have lunch with the Baroness; Celestia at the Grand Symphonia Hotel. Please arrive by noon in casual/formal attire." It seemed pretty straight forward, no? He had to buy a pair of sneakers (since all he owned were sandals and flip flops) but otherwise he was good, right?

Wrong. The hotel was god damned massive, bigger than any building had any business being. Eighty floors, fifteen food and beverage outlets, a business centre, conference halls, an enormous banquet hall, multiple gyms and swimming pools. Shops, there were shops inside this hotel, not a gift store (at least not just) but actual retail stores. The map provided at the front desk was dizzying. The Grand Symphonia Hotel was almost a city unto itself. The lobby was also unsurprisingly ridiculously excessive; marble flooring, high ceilings, and chandeliers lighting up the whole damn place, it gave the floor a very sexy shine. _How much would a night at a place like this cost?_ He felt possessively for his wallet which contained the two hundred dollars he made three nights ago, it was all the money he had in the world. And yet, Celestia somehow _owned_ a hotel!? _This hotel!? What!?_ He had never felt so poor in his life. That wasn't an envious or self-pitying thought, the sheer difference in wealth was stunning in the literal sense.

It was in this dazed and overwhelmed state that he glanced around, hoping to see some hidden clue as to what he was supposed to do next. There were people everywhere, patrons checking in and out, or just lounging around for something or other. Ordinary people. How did Celestia stay hidden this entire time? If her Mask ever fell off accidentally and there'd be so many witnesses, and depending on what she _really_ looked like, that could be disastrous. He had an idea, a potentially dumb idea, but in the absence of any other idea, it was also the smartest idea by default;

He walked up to the front desk in the reception hall, and asked the girl whom he got the map from earlier about his meeting with the Baroness of the local Changeling Freehold.

"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you. I was hoping to find my own way, but I'm lost. I'm supposed to be meeting someone here, I received an invitation…" He handed her his invitation. General common sense rule of thumb is that changelings never reveal their true appearance to regular people, the commotion is a hassle to deal with. That's some basic, intuitive rule any changeling will figure out sooner or later. The less exposure to actual magic the better for all changelings. So yes, asking a regular person for help finding the Baroness was probably not ideal, but the invitation itself was innocuous enough. Either she could help him, or she couldn't.

"Of course." The girl, Jenny (going by her name tag), smiled pleasantly enough as she received the invitation. Then that smile faded as she read it, and her eyes widened a little. "Ah, please wait here while I call my manager."

His stomach fell and he chuckled to alleviate his sudden fear. "No thank you. That sounds like a terrible idea, I think I'll just go now."

"Sir? Please wait-"

"Nope! I'm going! Pretend this never happened please." He said as he walked briskly towards the entrance/exit of the hotel. That was a terrible idea, why did he do that? If the Baroness found out that he was giving random muggles magical invitations, he'd get screwed. And she knew too, the receptionist girl; Jenny, somehow she knew the invitation was magic, which was why she called her manager. Well shit. This did not go as expected.

It was while he was thinking, realizing; putting into words to his instinctive bad feelings, that he didn't notice the woman standing ahead of him, blocking his path.

Despite the suit she wore, she looked… feral. Maybe it was her windswept hair or her golden amber eyes. Oh, yep, it was definitely her eyes. Normal people's eyes don't literally shine like that. She had dropped her mask partially just to intimidate him. She was a Changeling.

"Boy, I understand you're scared. But sit down, and wait. You're not in trouble."

He believed her. Not because she seemed sincere and genuine, but because she seemed confident and condescending. Cocky. She could easily physically stop him, but she was giving him this one chance to stop on his own volition, because she was "nice" like that. He wasn't in any real trouble, and if he sat down and did as he was told there won't be any real trouble. But something about her attitude annoyed the fuck out of him.

"You know, I'm not defenceless. If we throw down, it's not going to be as easy as you think."

 _Why are you taunting her!? Why are you escalating this!?_ He told that part of him to shut up. You don't stand up to bullies by whimpering and being docile. Stand your ground, claim your space.

There was a moment of surprise and then her lazy smile widened into an eager grin. "Oh? It's rare to see an Elf with some teeth. Promise you won't flinch when I show you mine? Promise you won't flee if I come at you now?"

He didn't know what she was. Not an Elf for sure, no Elves talk like that. An Ogre? A Beast? Beast sounds right, she did have that feral look to her. He tried to subtlety shift his stance so his body was lined up against hers, he had one "move", but he could only do it once, and he had to hit her first before she got to him. He was pretty sure that comment about teeth wasn't an empty taunt. He was pretty sure she liked to bite things.

"It's going to be real funny listening to you talk shit once I've kicked you in the teeth."

Another moment of silence, as she sized him up and marvelled. Was he being brave, or being stupid? They were both thinking the same question. Then she spoke, " _Brave_ Boy. A Lifetime ago and you'd have made the best kind of prey…" She took a deep breath and exhaled, "but that's not who I am anymore. And I'm not about to break a newbie just because he's standing up for himself. Stay, do as you're told, but cross this point and I'll put you down." She said that last bit with dead pan seriousness.

 _Oh, she'll definitely kick my ass._ She wasn't just a bully, she had experience, nay, probably a current lifestyle in fighting, in beating and getting beat. Whereas Kaspar had just learnt how to do a basic front kick last week from a free self-defence class the hostel offered (and he hadn't even practised it once since). It occurred to him just now that he probably just avoided an extremely painful experience. But she didn't know that, probably suspects it, but she didn't know that for sure. He was going to bluff her.

"I'm going to stay here and wait, because that's what I want to do." He declared, firmly, defiantly. Not at all overcompensating or dramatically. "Young Lady, you are LUCKY that I decided to not take you seriously this time, but you better not mess with me next time! Or else! You'll be sorry!"

They stood there in silence again. This time not at all sizing each other up. The atmosphere was actually kind of awkward. She clenched her jaw and pursed her lips, trying not to laugh, but her lips curved into a smile all the same. She shook her head.

"Too much?" He asked, feeling foolish.

She nodded, "yeah, way too much."

"But you definitely believe that I was going to fight you, right?"

"I suppose. You definitely know that you were going to get wrecked though, right?"

"Yeah… I realized towards the end, but by then I'd committed, so I was going to go down swinging if you called me on it."

"Woooow…" she laughed out loud, walking closer towards him now. Now that the tension was eased, it was easier to talk in closer quarters. "Please don't do that! You know there're real monsters out there right? If you think you're going to lose a fight, run from that fight. Being embarrassed is better than being dead."

"Wait, you were going to murder me!?" Kaspar exclaimed. _Holy shit, talk about dodging a bullet._

"What? No!" she said, "but that's still a terrible habit to have. You should definitely fix that."

"Ah, I mean… if I was going to survive…? Like, how bad was my decision in hindsight? If there was a 100% guarantee I was going to live… you know?"

It took her a moment to process what he just said. "Boy… I'm going to kick your ass, just to teach you a lesson. It would be for your own good." Clearly amused by his flawless logic.

Kaspar threw his hand behind his head, his posture beyond casual, almost a taunt. "Nah~ I'm good." He stuck his tongue out at her, "I don't feel like fighting anymore."

"Oh, you are infuriating." She grinned. "What's your name?"

"Kaspar, yours?"

"Kira, Kira Hunt. I work and live at the scrap yard, I teach Krav Maga, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and Muay Thai, and I do the occasional bounty hunting work." Her eyes were wide, expectant. Her smile was posed, ready to laugh.

He sighed. "I'm a street busker, I play pubs on the weekend..."

She howled in laughter, "Wow, it wasn't even going to be close! I was absolutely going to destroy you, and super easily too!" something about his face must've caught her attention, "no, don't be like that… Listen, you were brave. Not very smart, but brave. You're also funny! Those two points alone are enough to make you a hit with the ladies."

"What about a hit with you?"

She gasped playfully, "Brave. Can't beat me so you'll hit on me instead?"

"Can't help it," he leaned in closer ever so slightly, not enough that he was intruding on her personal space, but enough that it was oddly intimate. Kira, for her part, noticed this, and allowed it. He continued "I arrived in town not too long ago, I don't have a lot of friends of our kind. First time I meet one of us of the opposite gender and she's like this? Has me on my toes, has me by the throat. Tell me how I can't want someone like you in my life? If not lover than at the very least a friend."

"Friends, I can do. But Lovers? Oh… you're pretty enough, but if only you were a little older, a little wiser, a littler stronger. I see your baby smooth cheeks and I just want to pinch them. Right now if I were to share my bed with you, it'd just feel like cradling a child to sleep, anything _fun_ would feel inappropriate." She pinched his cheeks as though to prove a point.

He rolled his eyes, "Friends then, for now. And Lovers maybe, down the line."

"Boy, you are relentless." She chuckled, then "Maybe. But first you'd have to get Celestia to accept you, and then depending on how you play your cards, we might be on opposite teams."

"Opposite teams?"

She smiled sadly, "you'll see. Kid like you, brave but dumb, the Elves' want to snatch you up good, mould you into one of their own, play you like a fiddle. If you can free yourself from their snares, join us in the suburbs…"

"…We're not talking about sex anymore, are we?"

She shook her head. "You've come to our freehold at a bad time to be honest. The games they play could tear us all apart, and all the while there're creatures prowling the outskirts, looking for a way in…"

It was the first time in a while that he felt awkward, and concerned. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Silly boy… between the two of us, you're the one in more danger. Worry about yourself."

"I never worry about myself." He grinned, it was partially true, but it was said to alleviate worry, hers and his. "I have survived literally everything this world and the _other_ world has thrown at me, heck, just recently, I stood my ground against a big bad bounty hunting _wolf_." She shook her head and rolled her eyes at the comment, "I'm pretty sure I've proven I'm practically immortal at this point."

She smiled. "Not fearless, but brave… not very bright, but clever, oh, I can just tell already you're going to cause all kinds of trouble for the freehold."

They were mere inches apart. She really was quite beautiful. Her Mask was just that, a mask, an illusion of a human form she used to traverse among the human populace, but her eyes were real, and… deep; a strength that came from surviving countless pains, wisdom from innumerable experiences. No wonder she saw teased him for being a child, relatively speaking, he was.

Somewhere there was a ding. An elevator door opened and an imposing looking man stepped forth, the same man that had found him three nights ago; Celestia's Knight.

"Kaspar? It's good to see you again. The front desk called me to escort you to the Baroness, I'm glad you waited for me."

"I waited because I wanted to." He grinned as Kira stifled a chuckle, then he moved follow the knight. Before he entered the elevator but before the door closed, he asked Kira, "Guess I'll see you around?"

"Maybe." She grinned, and stuck her tongue out at him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The elevator was a tight fit. It shouldn't have been. Kaspar gazed up and saw a health and safety sign saying that it could fit twenty people in comfortably, there were only two people in the elevator, and it wasn't as though the knight stood smack dab in the middle of the elevator.

"If you have any questions you may ask them." Said the knight politely, so much so that Kaspar realized he'd been staring intently, which wasn't very polite at all.

"Yeah, okay, I thought you were big before, that night in the Bohemian Grove, and you are. Impressively so. But you're not _that_ big. You're not so physically ginormous that I'm pressed up against the wall. So why do I feel cramped in here?" he asked, hoping it didn't sound like he was calling him fat, that would be rude.

The knight looked at him in amusement, and then surprise, "oh, sorry."

And suddenly the most surreal and subtle experience occurred; the knight took a deep breath, exhaled, and _shrunk_. Except he didn't. He was still the same size! He was still big, but the elevator, somehow, no longer felt cramped.

"I was just at the gym when the call came through to escort you to the Baroness. That was inconsiderate, my apologies." The knight said, _as though that explained anything._

He tried to figure out how one thing related to the other and when he couldn't he just asked, "What does you being at the gym have to do with… whatever that was just now?"

The knight rose an eye brow, "You're aware of glamour, yes?"

Glamour; the emotional energy changelings siphoned off regular people to use our magic. "Sure."

"So, yes. The more glamour we use, the more efficient we are at using it, the more we can store within our bodies to be used." He spoke in an easy rhythm that comes from repetition. This was probably a lesson he taught frequently. "What you just felt the flow of glamour I give off, in this instance especially amped up because I was just training at the gym. What I did just now was basically "relaxing", letting go of the excess energy I was holding onto."

"Wait, what!?" Kaspar exclaimed, "You can do that? W _e_ can do that?!"

"It's… basic training." Said the knight, mildly amused. "Have you never experimented with the energy you'd been consuming? You've never thought to drink more than you could, burn through it all at once?"

"I guess? But… when I drank more than I should, I just felt sick; bloated and dizzy at the same time. Not really an experience I'd want to repeat…" He thought about the times he'd _augmented_ his performances, made a crowd feel especially sad, or excited and… "I guess if I burnt through all my glamour… I could turn a crowd to mass suicide… or start an orgy. But… why would I?"

"You're a good kid, Kaspar." said the knight. The elevator door opened again and the two walked out and down some hallways. "But there're other powers available to us beyond the ones we've been… _allowed._ We're changelings; we've been changed, but more importantly, we can change; we can choose, and grow, and be more than we ever thought possible." For a moment, it seemed like he was talking to himself more than to Kaspar, and after a pause he said "it's something to keep in mind."

"Wait, hold up. _Powers!?"_ He stopped in his tracks. It was the first time anyone mentioned anyone mentioned anything so exciting. Yes, he could make sexy music, Antoine could make delicious food, and together they could start a really dope party, but they weren't really superhero powers. Fighting crime would be cooler. "What kind of powers?"

"All kinds of powers." The knight smiled slyly, and motioned for him to keep following. "I'm a knight. My job is to enforce our laws, occasionally I've had to apprehend Oathbreakers and repel our other enemies. I've fought changelings that could grow blades from their elbows and knees, changelings that could rot flesh and bones, that one was… painful." He rubbed his knuckles.

 _That… didn't make any sense._ The Fae take people back to Faerie, and changed them usually to serve a purpose. Antoine was probably taken to be a top tier chef, Kaspar was taken basically to be a glorified music box for his Faerie _Godmother_ while over there _._ "What's the point in making a changeling grow blades from their limbs, or have them rot stuff? Why would _they_ do that?"

There was a long pause. Uncomfortably so. So long that it felt as though Kaspar had said something far more offensive and rude than he would've if he'd just called the knight fat.

"Oh, so you're actually relatively fresh from the Hedge, you're not just a wandering changeling that happened to rock up to our fair city…" Their walking pace slowed, it though it was just a difference in speed, it felt contemplative, interrogative.

Kaspar blinked, "I'm not sure what gave it away, but yeah? Did I- was that too personal a question?"

"It's hardly a question asked and answered in an orientation session…" he trailed, "but, I suppose you'll learn sooner or later. Many of the Fae that claim mortals do so looking for pets, servants, or even as trinkets, those mortals are moulded and shaped accordingly to better perform their _duties._ I suspect you know what I'm talking about." He did. The knight continued, "Some mortals are taken to… participate in games; war games, gladiatorial arena combat, the more violent and fatal activities. _We_ were moulded to further our chances of survival, to that end they came up with some creative and twisted ways to alter our bodies."

 _Oh shit, this went to a dark place…_ "Are you okay…?"

"I am." The knight smiled reassuringly "I'm a knight, I get to do what I'm good at in addition to doing good for the freehold. Unfortunately some of our more _battle oriented_ comrades are struggling. They burst out the Hedge, terrified and disoriented, uniquely suited to kill. Those that regain their sanity chafe at the idea of fleeing one master just to serve the Baroness. Sometimes their _frustrations_ threaten to break the Masquerade, alerting the mortals to our presence and threatening us all…"

"Cool… are there any changelings I should probably avoid?"

The knight grimaced, "As I represent the Baroness in this matter, I _should_ say that all our charges, everyone that's sworn the Oath is _safe_ to be around. But truth be told, some _prominent_ members have found loopholes within the Oath, and I would feel guilty if I'd told you otherwise and you died within a week. Avoid the Rat King and those associated with him. Be cautious around Bonnie Jewel, she's… loyal to the baroness, but almost ruthlessly so. Be polite to Laughing Jack, but don't follow him where he goes."

"Holy shit, can you repeat those names?" Kaspar scrambled in his bag for a notebook and pen.

The knight waited patiently and repeated them.

"Ooof, this freehold is more dangerous than I thought." Kaspar said as he finished his list. "And those are some weird names."

"The world was always this dangerous, you just didn't know until now. Be glad that the Hedge spat you out here and now, and not in Rome."

"Man, why'd you have to sound so ominous just now? You couldn't just say something reassuring, inspiring, and full of hope? "Don't worry Kaspar, I'm a Knight, I'll protect you.""

"Don't worry, Kaspar, I'm a knight, I'll protect you." Said the knight, trying to not smile.

"duuuur, my name's…" Kaspar trailed off, realizing he didn't know the knight's name to make fun of him. "Oh, what's your name?"

"Gawain."

"duuuur," Kaspar continued, in a mocking way that made the knight seem simple, "my name's Gawain, and I like to tell scary stories so the newbie Changeling'll be scared and not misbehave."

Gawain laughed, "You're quite the irreverent little rascal, aren't you?"

"I make jokes when I'm scared. If I'm to die than I'd rather laugh than cry."

"That was oddly philosophical. Unexpected."

"I have my moments."

Somewhere along the way, Kaspar was lost. Left turn, right turn, right turn, left, and then he gave up. Gawain seemed to know where he was going so it wasn't a big deal. Then they came to a hall way with no doors, and a grandiose painting at the end. Just as Kaspar wasn't going to say anything to embarrass Gawain (lord knows he'd gotten lost several times before), Gawain nonchalantly walked down the empty hallway. Not knowing what was going on he followed.

As they approached the end of the hallway, Kaspar noticed that the grandiose painting he saw before was actually a painting of a _door_. A grand oak door with gold filigree inlaid, but a painting all the same. Shivers ran up his spine, and instinctively he knew he was going to witness something incredible.

Gawain pulled a ridiculously large key from his jacket pocket that looked more like an art piece than any real key, and placed it on the surface of the painting where the door's keyhole was. The painting _sucked_ the key in. Gawain had let go, and the key was stuck inside the painting. Then it turned _by itself,_ and the entire painting shimmered and shined, before turning ethereal.

" _What!?_ " Kaspar marvelled at the spectacle.

Gawain walked through the translucent door casually, and Kaspar followed with less composure. Then Gawain reached back through the translucent painting, and pulled the key, the only solid object, through the painting, and put it back in his pocket.

"That was so cool!"

"Shh!" Gawain hushed, "My lady, the Baroness Celestia. I present Kaspar."

He saw the Baroness for the first time, and all the breath rushed out of his lungs.


End file.
